Harmonize
by PollenPawprints
Summary: The Grand Highblood saves the Signless in an effort to bring back their old bond. The Signless is not very happy with this development.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Moonlight trickled between the gaps in the leaves, trees swaying gently in the night-time breeze. The forest was filled with the sounds of nature; wild lusii calling loudly in aggression or friendship, the faint burbling of a spring over rocks, and the swish of the swaying leaves in the air. It was a beautiful night.

Voices drifted through the air, adding to the sounds of the forest. One was a deep voice, gravelly with a hint of an ever-present wonder and reminiscent of the roar of a large lusus. The other voice was warmer, a kind tone that was still strong, like a crackling fire. The two trolls that were the source of these voices were walking through the forest, one much taller than the other. They walked together, fingers twined together despite the somber expression on the smaller one's face.

"Kurloz…" The smaller one began, stopping to turn and look up at his companion. The larger troll, Kurloz, stopped as well, looking down at the cloaked troll beside him.

"What is it, my little spitfire?" Kurloz tugged the other, known as Kankri, down to sit on the forest floor as they spoke. His smaller companion looked thoughtful and sad as he looked at the larger troll.

"These past few perigees have been absolutely wonderful, Kurloz, but I'm going to be leaving soon." The smaller troll murmured quietly, avoiding the taller's gaze. Kurloz stared at his tiny companion, a look of shock and sorrow in his expression. Kankri pulled his knees up to his chest, the red-tinged earfins on the sides of his head fluttering for a moment before pinning to his head.

"Why? I thought you were happy here? I thought you were happy with _me_?" Kurloz demanded, hurt in his tone. "You're going to up and leave me, after not even motherfucking a sweep? What have I done wrong, for you to leave me like this?"

Kankri looked over at him, frowning as he shook his head. "No! You haven't done anything wrong. I _do_ care for you! I just...I can't ask my companions to stay here; I can't keep hiding here, afraid to leave your property for fear that someone will see my blood." He said quietly.

"I can keep you safe!" Kurloz exclaimed quickly, taking hold of the smaller troll's shoulders. "You and your companions can stay in my castle for as long as you want! There's no need for you to leave me; I can protect you!" However, Kankri just shook his head.

"I know you can, but it's not enough. While my companions and I may be safe, there are many lowbloods who cannot say the same." He pointed out. "I want to do something! I want to help! I can't do anything if I continue to hide behind you!" Kankri sighed, pulling away from him. "You are one of the best things to ever happen to me, but I can't stay here."

Kurloz narrowed his eyes. "What you are suggesting is treason. You would give up your life, you would give up _me_ , to save the damned?" The larger troll looked hurt by this, painted visage turned down into a look of mixed emotions.

"Kurloz…" Kankri sighed. "It's considered treason enough for me to be alive. We both know it's going to catch up with me eventually, and I want to die knowing I did some good." He turned to face the other. "I would love to stay here with you, but it just doesn't feel right."

Kurloz looked at the mutant silently for a few moments, then growled. "...I see. Well, fine. Go if you wish. But know this, if you leave you cannot return. Do not run to me when you realize that you belong here; belong with me. You make your decision and you stick with it, you stubborn motherfucker." His voice was cold, betrayal clear in his eyes as he looked at him. The two looked at each other silently for a good for moments before either of them moved.

Then, suddenly, Kurloz leaned forward and captured Kankri in a kiss. One hand moved to cup the other's cheek, the pair of troll pressing into the kiss like it was a lifeline. Tears gathered in the corners of Kankri eyes, hands clenching the fabric of Kurloz's shirts as the larger troll pulled away to press their foreheads together.

" _Don't go._ " Kurloz whispered, his voice pained, reaching out for Kankri even as the mutant stood up. Kankri turned his back, shoulders hunched as he tried to keep the tears in his eyes from falling. He wiped at his eyes, lifting his head as he walked away.

" _I'm sorry._ "


	2. Chapter 1

Kankri, now known more commonly as the Signless, sighed as he sat in the cell of the Grand Highblood's prison. It had been sweeps since he had last seen Kurloz, and it had broken his heart to see how much his old flush had changed. He hadn't expected anything other than this when he had been captured, but it hurt knowing that Kurloz had been the one to order it. Though, he guess he shouldn't have been so surprised. He had given Kurloz up, pushed thoughts of him to the back of his mind so he could do what he had been called to. It seemed Kurloz had done the same.

Shifting slightly, he ignored the rattling of the chains as they shifted as well with his movements. He pressed his back against the wall, close enough to where the chains were attached to the wall for him to let his hands rest in his lap. He was completely immobile, but he certainly hadn't been given the luxury to pace around the cell. The cell itself was cold and made of stone, though it wasn't quite as dirty as one might expect. The area he was confined to had a bit of hay stacked, which he was grateful for. It was better than laying down on the stone floor, after all. He could even lay down completely if he held his hands to the wall.

Signless wondered if this was the normal state of the cells in the Grand Highblood's prison, or if he had been put here as a poke at what he had once had with the purpleblood. Either way, despite the tiny bit of luxury, a cell was a cell and he knew he wasn't going to be escaping this time. Bluebloods were constantly patrolling, one in each direction, and his companions were trapped as well. He doubted he would be able to get them out as well without getting caught. The bars were also a problem. No rust or anything that he might be able to exploit. They seemed new, even. The bluebloods weren't carrying keys either. It seemed the mutant's luck had finally run out.

It was his fault, really. He'd become too trusting. Actually, that wasn't true. He wasn't, and had never been, trusting in the sense of the word. He simply tried to see the good in people, while keeping wary of their intentions. However, that had been his downfall. A blueblood had appeared at one of his sermons and he had talked with them afterwards. There had been other lowbloods around, and he knew his companions were milling about somewhere in the crowd. However, he wasn't aware that they had already been captured, and he had been grabbed with no more than his own thrashing.

Sighing, the mutant looked down at his wrists. He had fought almost ferally against the chains that had been attached to his wrists, tugging at the shackles and even throwing himself at the bluebloods in an attempt to throw them off. However, it had been in vain. Now, his wrists were paying the price for his struggling. The constant rubbing of the metal, his thrashing digging it into his gray flesh, had cause his wrists to be cut open and some patches of skin to be pulled up. The rubbed-raw skin stung, even when he didn't move his arms, and he grit his teeth as he set his hands down. Already, a small patch of cherry-red blood had accumulated on the floor between his crossed legs. The color stared up at him as he stared back, the reason for all his troubles in the first place.

Maybe if he'd been born into a normal blood color, he wouldn't have started preaching blasphemy. Then, his guardian Dolorosa would still be living in relative ease in the brooding caverns, protected by those stationed to guard the jadebloods. Disciple, wonderful, devoted Disciple, would be living in the forests he had first found her in, far from society and living the way he knew she had missed all these sweeps. Loyal, hot-tempered Psiioniic...well, Psiioniic's life would be the one that did not benefit his heretic ways. He would be a helmsman, the one thing Signless knew his companion feared more than anything else. He had promised to protect his companion from that.

His companions were very dear to him; they were all he had after all. They had stuck by his side through his whole journey. The two who were more his age...well, their relationships between each other had never been official nor had they spoke of them, but they had been their for each other. Besides, why did they need words when they had not known what they really were to each other. Their feelings had fluctuated between each other quite frequently. They never stayed the same long enough to pin them down. They had merely enjoyed each other's presences in whatever way they felt when they had the time to do so.

Signless blinked, startled from his reminiscing by the sound of footsteps. These were different than the footfalls of the blues, which were steady and methodical. These were louder and occasionally halting, as if whoever was walking stopped for one reason or another every few steps. Looking up as the sounds grew close, he was greeted by the sight of his once-flush. The Grand Highblood had grown considerably in the sweeps since Signless had last seen him. Granted, the purpleblood had always been tall. However, the Highblood had grown while Signless was still relatively the same height he had been in those nights long ago.

The large troll looked in at the failed revolutionary, yellow eyes pinning him like a meowbeast that has caught the squeakbeast. Signless did not cower, however, and stared right back with a defiant expression. The two stayed like that for several minutes, locked in some silent test of wills. Neither faltered in their gaze, the staredown only broken as a blueblood called out and caught the Grand Highblood's attention. The spell-like state broken, both looked away. The Highblood to the interrupting blueblood and Signless to the wall.

"Sir," the blueblood began, bowing slightly in respect to the purpleblood, "the Empress would like to discuss the arrangements for the execution. She says that she will be attending in person." The purpleblood nodded, not saying a word as he walked off, thundering footsteps fading into the distance. The blueblood didn't spare the mutant even a glance as he went back to his position. Signless was left to wait for death once more.

Signless didn't know how many nights it had been since he had last seen the Highblood; there were no windows or any indication of what time it was. It felt like a while, though, and he had spent much of that time in silent thought or sleeping, like he currently was. Curled up in the straw against the wall, the mutant slept fitfully. It was cold, even for a troll running at his temperature, and they had taken his cloak before he had even been put in the cell. His leggings were full of rips and tears, much of the red lining dulled by a layer of dirt. All in all, he felt pretty miserable. He was used to worn-down clothes and dirt, having spent a life on the run and in hiding, but it felt worse when he knew he wasn't going to get a chance to fix it or wash up.

The mutant didn't wake until he heard the sound of something loud stomping the ground close by. Opening his eyes, he shifted until he could see out of the bars of the cell. Once again, he locked gazes with the Highblood, who scowled down at him.

"I'm giving you one last chance." Signless hadn't heard the Highblood's voice in so long. Well, he had heard him talking to members of his staff, but nothing directed at him. He opened his mouth to say something, ask what the purpleblood meant, when he was cut off. "I can stop this; you don't have to die. Renounce your teachings, renounce your _motherfucking companions_ , and pledge your loyalty to _me_. Her Imperious Condescension will pardon you, if you will only swear to stay with me." The hint of desperation one might expect to hear along with such words...wasn't there, Signless noticed. The Grand Highblood's voice was cold and accusing, demanding even. As if Signless was _expected_ to give everything he had worked for up and negate all the sacrifices he had made, just to prolong the inevitable. He knew his time was up, and he wasn't going to run back to his old flush merely to save his own hide.

This must have been obvious in his eyes, because the Grand Highblood huffed. "You never change. Stubborn to the end, with no regard to what you toss aside in your quest for so-called _change_." The purpleblood spat. "You've changed _nothing_ , and yet you are still willing to throw your life away to prove a point. You were all too willing to throw _me_ away. I could have provided for you, given you everything you ever wanted, but you left me for your damn revolution and companions who could _never_ care for you as much as I did! There is _nothing_ I regret more than not stopping you that night. If only I had just kept you from leaving, we wouldn't be here. But I respected you enough to let you choose your own fate...and I still respect you. So, choose your fate and live with it...while you're still alive." The Grand Highblood turned, sighing deeply as he spoke one last time before leaving. "You still have time to change your mind."


	3. Chapter 2

Signless doesn't change his mind. He hadn't backed down before; he was going to see this through to the probably-bloody end. His last few nights in the cell passed without much excitement, silent even as the Highblood comes to occasionally stare at him expectantly. Neither say anything, reliving what they once had through each other's eyes. It's sad, really, but neither can bring themself to say anything. Signless knows Highblood is loyal to the Empress, and Highblood knows that Signless won't sell his teachings for his life.

The night of the execution, Signless is dragged from his cell as the moons reach the top of the sky. Everything is a blur of hands pushing him to and fro, the blindfold now wrapped around his eyes are not helping with his confusion. What becomes very clear, however, is the sudden searing pain on his wrists. Red-hot irons are clamped around where there had previously been the cold steel of the chain-ladden shackles. The only chains on these shackles are the ones connecting the two cuffs to each other.

A familiar and yet foreign hand touches his shoulder, shoving him forward with less force than the troll behind him was able to provide. The Highblood, because that is who Signless assumes is behind him, clearly still cares a bit about what they had once shared. Signless did too, but that had no impact on anything other than this simple thing. They're both grown trolls now, not red-struck newly-molts who think that everything will work out in the end.

Highblood's dangerously-sharp, clawed hand guiding him, Signless navigated the out of the dungeons and through the Highblood's palace. The sounds of other subjugglators echoed down the hallways, as the palace of the Grand Highblood is also the building which houses the Church of the Messiahs. The Grand Highblood is the head, so it is no surprise that the subjugglators all gather here to do...well, whatever it is they do. Signless never paid too much attention to the Church, and Highblood had not been a true member of the Church yet when they had been...together.

The mutant was broken from his thoughts as he felt the change in the air. A gentle breeze blew across his face, alerting him to the fact that they had stepped into the outside. The clamor of a crowd could be heard nearby. This was it. Signless gulped nervously, almost stumbling as he stepped up onto what seemed to be a platform. He had been trying to ignore the fire on his wrists, but the shackles dug into his skin as the chain between them was lifted, causing him to have to lift his arms as the chain was hooked onto the execution block. His eyes were still covered and he wondered if he'd be able to see anything before he died. If not...well, then his last sight would have been of some blueblooded guard approaching him with said blindfold.

The Highblood's voice started up, close enough for Signless to pick up the slight hint of a bitter tone in his voice. The mutant's crimes were listed out, then the Empress spoke up to allow him one last speech, should he want it. His final words. These last words were spent venting his frustrations at all his apparent failure and the complacency of all the trolls who had done nothing to help themselves. Then his words turned to the Empress, accusatory tone focused now on a single troll. Before he could get out more than the Highblood's title as his frustrations were turned on him, he heard the brief sound of something whistling through the air before something pierced through his gut and cut him off.

He coughed, feeling blood trickle down his chin. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, wrists burning and gut bleeding as he tried to ignore the pain. It could have been only a few minutes, or maybe hours, but the sound eventually seemed to dim around him. His vision stayed black, still blindfolded as he was, but his head was hurting and he had a feeling almost as if he was dizzy. The pain skyrocketed and he wasn't sure how he would be able to stand this, when it all started to fade. The last thing he felt was something pressing against his lips, the color purple strangely the last thing he remembered before he slipped into unconsciousness while he continued to bleed out.


	4. Chapter 3

He opened his eyes in darkness. Was he dead? He assumed not, since he was in pain all over. Still, why was it so dark, and...why was whatever he was lying on so soft. He blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the darkness until he could see. It took a moment, seeing as he had no idea where he was and felt pretty weak, but he managed to lift himself into a sitting position.

Curiosity prevalent in his bright-red eyes, which practically glowed in the dark of the room, he ran his hand over the ground beneath him. It wasn't a floor or dirt, he could see that clearly as well as feel it. It was soft and made of what felt like a bunch of thick pelts. Was he on some troll's pile? It was shaped like a pile. How had he ended up here...where was here? More importantly, why wasn't he dead?

He checked himself over, finding his torso and his wrists covered in what he assumed was gauze. He appeared to be wearing pants, which was a relief, though they seemed like shorts. He wasn't cold, though; one of the pelt has been draped over him and the end was bunched up in his lap. Wherever he was...it was comfortable.

Moving slowly so as not to unbalance himself, Signless slid off the pile and got to his feet. There was a faint reek of blood in the air, though he wondered if it was just from his own wounds.

Looking around the room he was in, he noticed a few faint splotches of something that he couldn't make out in the almost completely pitch-black room. Trolls were nocturnal, and thus could see in the dark, but even they needed a bit of light, whether from the twin moons or stars, to be able to see clearly.

There was what appeared to be a recuperacoon on the other side of the room, along with a desk, dresser, and a chest. Signless could make out two door in the gloom, and so he headed for one and tried the doorknob.

Locked.

He sighed, though it wasn't like he had expected to be able to waltz out of the room so easily. There was always the other door, though. This time when he turned the doorknob, it opened easily. From what he could make out, this was a ablutions block.

He fumbled along the wall, eventually finding a switch and flicking it up. Dim light appeared from a light in the ceiling, bright enough to see but not bright enough to hurt nocturnal eyes. It was indeed an ablutions block, a bit messy but it seemed to be mostly kept in a hygienic state.

Signless left the light on as he left the ablutions block, using the dim light from the doorway to find the light switch for the main room. With light now illuminating the room, he could make out his surroundings better. It was obviously some troll's respiteblock, but it was the walls that gave away who it might be.

Large splotches of a rainbow of colors decorated the walls, and Signless doubted it was paint. He was in some purpleblood's respiteblock, and he knew of only one purple that would have an interest in him alive.

Highblood.

Still, Highblood had given him up out of loyalty to the Empress and the ridiculous hemospectrum. Did he expect Signless to grovel at his feet, thanking him for keeping the mutant from dying in the execution that he had led Signless to? Oh no, there would be none of that. Sure, he was glad he wasn't dead, but this was not going to change what had happened between them. They had each chosen their paths and Highblood was not going to change Signless's, even if he thought he could.

Well, if he was going to be trapped in here for a while, he might as well make use of his time and try to find something that would help him figure out where he was and if it really was the Highblood who had brought him here like he assumed.

First stop, the desk. Signless walked over and rifled through the few papers he found sprawled out in the desk's surface. It was mostly supply counts; food, clothing, weapons, medicals supplies, etc. The numbers on the paper indicated enough supplies to sustain a small army.

He looked over a few more papers, eyes widening at what he found. He was indeed in the same place as Highblood, so there was little doubt that was who had brought him here. According to the papers in his hands, he was on the main starship of the Church fleet. He was trapped in space with a bunch of purple zealots and blues. Just great.

Signless was startled out of his thoughts by the click of a lock. He dropped the papers back onto the desk and spun towards the door, though it was not the Highblood who walked through the door. Before him was a blueblood, just a bit shorter than the Highblood and quite clearly a high-ranking guard.

The guard seemed surprised to see him awake, his antlerbeast-in-the-headlights look mirroring Signless's own. "O-oh...I see you are feeling better." The guard stuttered, the nervous tone contrasting with the deep sound of the blueblood's voice. The guard cleared his throat, seeming to compose himself before speaking in the commanding tone he was used to hearing from Imperial guards. "I will alert the Highblood and bring you something to eat. First, though, I am going to change out your bandages."

Signless resisted the urge to roll his eyes; the blueblood before him was clearly trying to put on the big-bad-highblood routine, but it was obvious by the way he hesitated to step towards the mutant, and the slight attempt at a soothing intonation in the blueblood voice, that the guard before him probably wasn't a naturally demanding sort.

With that little observation in mind, Signless quietly complied as he was motioned towards the chair at the desk. He sat still, a curious look on his face as he watched the blueblood change out his bandages. The guard was clearly trying to be careful, flinching back each time Signless showed a hint of discomfort as if afraid to break him. Signless wanted to laugh at that. This was the first time an Imperial guard was trying to fix him instead of break him. And...was that the faintest hint of a blush on the other's cheek? No, it couldn't be; he was just imagining things.

Soon enough, there were clean bandages around Signless's wounds and he was left alone once more. He took the opportunity to use the load gaper, then check himself over in the reflection pane.

As he expected, the usual brink-of-starvation look he had carried with him for the majority of his life was there. However, it looked odd to him now. Gone were the flecks of dirt that he could never quite completely remove, seeing as he had lived almost entirely outside, and the squeakbeast nest that was his hair had been trimmed and combed quite thoroughly. The curls that gave him so much grief were now only just below his jaw, instead of brushing his shoulders like they so often had; while the curls still had their usual untameable look to them, a quick brush of his fingers through them found no tangles.

It was...strange.

There was a knock at the door, the blueblooded guard alerting him this time before stepping back into the room. He had what appeared to be some cloths draped over his arm, a tray with what smelled like food balanced in his hands.

The guard set the tray down on the desk, moving some papers out of the way. "I figured you would like something more...covering." He explained as he laid the clothes on the back of the chair. "The Grand Highblood will be with you shortly. If you have need of anything else, inform the guards outside your door. I will leave the door unlocked, but the Highblood has instructed that we not let you wander quite yet."

"Alright." Signless murmured, somewhat distracted by the smell of food. "Thank you...uh, I don't think I quite caught your name."

"Darkleer." The blueblood answered, informing him once again not to stay silent if he should need something before leaving.

Signless watched the door click shut, then went about changing into the clothes provided for him. The smell of food was tempting, but if the Highblood was on his way, he would rather be dressed in something more covering.

He wasn't quite sure what he expected the clothes to be, but he was pleasantly surprised to find them a simple purple sweater and pair of black sweatpants; something that wouldn't cling to his still-healing wounds and cause him discomfort or open them up again. He could do without the glaring sign that Highblood was trying to own him, though, what with the purple that certainly wasn't a seadweller's shade.

Well, it was better than nothing.

Now comfortably clothed, Signless sat down and dug into the food. It was soup, he assumed provided so that his stomach, which was still recovering from being pierced with an arrow, wouldn't have to work too terribly hard. Signless made sure to slow down to eat, though habit urged him to scarf it down like he had had to do many times on the run.

The door clicked open once more as he was eating, causing Signless to tense up. He doubted it Darkleer returning. Even as he heard somewhat familiar footsteps and a recognizable huff, he didn't turn around. He stared pointedly down at the soup before him, the neutral expression on his face morphing into a frown.

"Even after I saved your sorry ass, you continue to ignore me?" The Highblood's gruff voice spoke up from behind him. Signless pursed his lips, brows furrowing as he turned his head slightly.

"From the execution _you_ set up for me. Excuse me for not groveling at your feet to express my... _gratitude_." He spat in reply, the words coming out a hint more venomous than he had intended. He winced a bit at the sight of Highblood's eyes narrowing dangerously. The taller troll was certainly more hot-tempered than he had been in his youth.

"An execution that would have never even been suggested if you had just fucking _stayed_." The Highblood's accusing tone countered. Signless huffed, pushing back and up out of the chair he was sitting in, turning to face the Highblood and trying to hide the slight buckle in his still-injured legs that the sudden movement caused.

"Don't even start. We both made our decisions that day, but it seems that even know you think you know better than I do what's best for me." He growled, crossing his arms over his chest. "No matter what I felt for you back then, I can't approve of what you stand for and who you are loyal to. You have chosen your place in the Empire and I know where I stand."

"Surely you understand how dumb all of this is? You almost _died_ , all for a bunch of lowbloods who will never appreciate it and who will never amount to anything!" Highblood shouted, causing Signless's eyes to widen with an expression of offence.

"I'll have you know that I am one of those 'lowbloods' that you are so keen to think of as nothing less than barkbeasts that can talk!" Signless yelled, head subconsciously tilting forward in a classic threat display. His horns weren't all that intimidating, though, and he hadn't even meant to do it. Nevertheless, it got the tone of his point across. Or so he hoped.

Highblood glared at him for a few minutes, almost tilting his horns in the same way before he straightened his head once more. He let out a frustrated growl. " _You're different_." The purpleblood insisted in what was almost a mumble. "You've always been different. Look at you; it could be argued that you're anything but low." He gestured to the earfins on the side of the mutant's head. "You're obviously nothing like them. A miracle from the Messiahs themselves...even if you've strayed from the righteous path, _little woolbeast_." He added with a grin.

Signless pinned his fins to his head, turning around again and flopping down into the chair with an exasperated sigh with no regard for the blood that started soaking his bandages as his harsh actions reopened a wound. "You're insufferable. Just leave me alone, will you?"

Highblood let out a bitter chuckle. "That's going to be awful hard, seeing as this is my block. You're stuck with me, and I'm not letting you room anywhere else until you come to your senses."

Signless groaned, kicking his foot against the desk in a somewhat childish manner, which really only ended with pain shooting up his leg. "If this is your attempt at romance, it's a sorry try." He grumbled, causing Highblood to laugh with a bit more amusement.

"Brother, you'll _know_ when I get my woo on. I promise you, I'm going to sweep you right off your motherfucking feet and you'll forget all about this ridiculous rebellion business. It'll be just like all those sweeps ago."

Signless grimaced, wondering if Highblood knew how horrible that sounded. He was trapped here, far from anywhere he had ever known, with the troll responsible for his capture and near-death, and Highblood expected him to fall back into flush with him as if nothing had ever happened?

He was going to need all the patience he could get.


End file.
